


Heart of copper and gold

by duesternis



Series: after all [3]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Post-Canon Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis
Summary: “The door is latched, the drapes are draped and the train is blastedly loud, so no one’s going to notice when you stop shrieking like an old maid about it, alright?”Before Tom’s blessed, cursed mouth could attach itself to John’s pulse again, John slipped from the bench and sat down opposite of Tom.“Please, wait until we’ve safely arrived.”“I’m not gonna fumble around with you in your brother’s house, John.” Tom pulled a face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Relationships: Thomas Hartnell/Lt John Irving
Series: after all [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969702
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Heart of copper and gold

**Author's Note:**

> title borrowed from the song copper & gold by the heavy horses

“Tom!”, John hissed for the sixth time or so.  
Tom finally lifted his head from John’s neck, stopping his moist ministrations for as long as it took him to ask “What is it, John?”  
Then he immediately went back to John’s increasingly tender skin, teeth scraping over gooseflesh.  
“Please, for God’s sake! What if someone comes by?”  
Tom lifted his head, mouth glistening with spit, and looked around.  
The compartment was empty, except for them, and the curtains were all drawn.  
“Erm, John?”  
“Yes?”  
“The door is latched, the drapes are draped and the train is blastedly loud, so no one’s going to notice when you stop shrieking like an old maid about it, alright?”  
Before Tom’s blessed, cursed mouth could attach itself to John’s pulse again, John slipped from the bench and sat down opposite of Tom.

“Please, wait until we’ve safely arrived.”  
“I’m not gonna fumble around with you in your brother’s house, John.” Tom pulled a face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
John wiped spit from his neck and righted the crumpled cravat as best as he was able without a looking glass. According to the bemused curve of Tom’s mouth he hadn’t actually managed to make himself more presentable.  
He cleared his throat, adjusting his cravat again.  
“Well, and I won’t be felt up in a train compartment, Hartnell.”  
Tom knocked his head back against the wall, eyeballing the first class compartment.  
“Barely looks like a train. Could be some Club.”  
John lifted a critical brow.  
“With seats like this? Hardly a Club I’d frequent.”  
“Only Club you frequent is Bible Club.”  
“Haha, really funny. Stop sulking. Let’s get to Edinburgh and then we’ll see about getting you sorted, Tom.”  
John smiled and pressed a hand firmly around Tom’s knee, feeling it shift under his palm.  
Tom sighed with a little smile and shrugged, tugging at his collar.

“Fine, but I can’t promise I’ll get it up with your brother and his wife sleeping next door.”  
“What on earth makes you believe we share a bed room wall? The house is bigger than that, and the guest room is even further removed than mine. I’ll just meet you there.”  
At that Tom perked up, chin rising from its perch on Tom’s chest.  
“Honestly?”  
“Have I ever lied to you?”  
Squinty eyes and pursed lips. “Not that I know of, Lieutenant Irving, but well...”  
John laughed and squeezed Tom’s knee again before he sat back and idly watched the landscape flit by through a gap in the drapes.  
It looked more and more like home.

A few hours later they disembarked in Edinburgh, Tom insisting on carrying their two suitcases.  
John linked their arms, stole a suitcase back and endured Tom’s complaints until they were down the stairs, then he pulled them closer together, shoulders knocking.  
He glared at Tom, mouth pressed tightly together and brows stormy.  
It always shut Tom right up.  
“Now, Mr Hartnell. I’ll carry this suitcase, you’ll carry that and follow my lead, alright?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
John smiled shortly, Tom grinning back at him and gently squeezing John’s fingers in the crook of his arm.  
Only then did John realize that he was holding Tom’s arm much like a young lady would.  
With a muttered curse and a blush he linked their arms at the elbow instead.  
Much more gentlemanly.

“Shame,” muttered Tom, “Your hand was much warmer.”  
“It’s not cold out. Barely in the single digits.”  
“Remind me why we’re having Christmas in Edinburgh? I reckon it will get way past the single digits.”  
“Doctor Goodsir spelled an inivite to all of us, to celebrate the occasion.”  
“What occasion?”  
John shrugged and steered them down the road to the townhouse his brother had in the city.  
It was almost as if Tom hadn’t even read the invite.  
“He wasn’t exactly forthcoming. It might be that one of the married Gentlemen has at last reproduced.”  
“Le Vesconte?” Tom couldn’t think of another man that had come back that was married. “Mr Blanky?”  
“Aren’t they both fathers already?”  
Tom shrugged and squeezed John’s arm. Families were a tender topic between the two of them.

“Maybe his book?”  
“Goodsir’s? Maybe.” John was quiet for a moment, eyes downturned under the brim of his hat.  
Tom squeezed his arm again, cap pushed back on his head.  
They must look a funny pair: John dressed like quite the gentleman, not richly, but well and modest and next to him Tom in his good jacket, that was still fairly poor, and his workmen’s cap.  
Well, they had looked weirder by far already.  
“Do you think the Captains will attend?”  
“I don’t think so,” mumbled John, stopping them in front of a gate and letting go of Tom to open it. “There’s a Christmas party that Ross is hosting I heard, so they might rather be there.”  
“Huh.”

They stepped into the house, door closing behind them. The parlour was cold and dark, the house seeming empty.  
John sighed and pocketed his key again.  
“Sebastian!”  
In his best and loudest Lieutenant’s voice.  
It had Tom standing firmly at attention, suitcase by his feet.  
John tossed him an amused glance and Tom swallowed, winked at John.  
A man with greying hair hurried down a dark corridor, pulling on a black jacket.  
“Master John! We didn’t expect you until dinner!”  
“Well, that’s no reason to let the parlour grow cold. Why are the lamps unlit?”  
John pulled off his gloves and pocketed them with a hint of aggression and Tom grinned at the servant, giving a half shrug in apology.  
“The family is out for tea, Master John, and we thought it prudent to save the lamp oil.”  
John sighed and nodded.  
“Yes, alright, then. Bring our luggage up, please. We’ll take tea in the drawing room, if that’s warm.”  
Sebastian gave a bow and a nod and took the luggage. Tom whispered a thanks and then followed John down the hall and into a darkly furnished drawing room.  
“Pretty.”  
John grinned ruefully and tossed his coat over a sofa.  
“A bit dark.”

There was a red mark that just so peeked out of his collar and Tom stepped close, pressing a cold thumb to it.  
"What's this then?", he murmured warmly and watched John's eyes fall closed.  
John groaned, head tilting to accomodate Tom’s hand on his neck. His hands scrabbled over Tom’s hip, pulling him closer between John's legs.  
There was a convenient sofa to press John up against.  
But any moment Sebastian or some maid could come bustling in with tea.  
Tom only pressed a kiss to the corner of John’s mouth and stepped back.  
John nodded after a second of confusion, pulled himself together and took a seat by the fire.  
The back of his neck was red and warm and Tom stood there and watched him until a moment later a maid brought the tea in.  
They sat together, drank tea and then hurried as subtly upstairs as they could manage.  
Sebastian and the maid were nowhere to be seen and that maybe explained why the man hadn’t been wearing his jacket properly.  
And the crumpled apron of the girl.

Tom sat down heavily on the bed in the guest room and John half closed the curtain.  
The door was locked.  
“I think the butler is fucking the maid.”  
John looked at him with that prim, prude affront that Tom thought unbelievably maddening.  
Especially considering what kind of things John could get up to, if given enough encouragement and a long leash.  
“That’s disgusting, Tom. Preposterous, too.”  
Tom shrugged and John stood by his side at the bed.  
Shoved his shoulder and Tom fell back.

John leaned over him and pulled his cravat loose, letting it unspool on Tom’s chest. Half of his neck was red and tender from Tom’s beard and sucking kisses.  
“Lieutenant you look damn fetching.”  
“Shut up, Tom,” laughed John and kissed him shortly on the mouth. Then he shed his jacket and shoes, waistcoat hung properly over the back of a chair.  
Tom kicked off his boots, tossed his jacket at the floor, pulled his sweater over his head and started on his shirt.  
By the time John was undoing his braces, Tom was already only in his drawers, rooting through his suitcase for some thing or other.  
John chuckled and dropped down on the bed, belly down, peering over Tom’s shoulder.  
“What are you looking for?”  
“The grease, you daft bugger.”

That had John colouring firmly from chest to the tips of his ears. He put his hands over Tom’s eyes and pulled him back a bit, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.  
One of the scars almost reached there, veering off at the last second to wrap over his shoulder instead.  
John kissed it.  
“Don’t say things like that.”  
Tom chuckled and pulled one of John’s hands down from his eyes. His lips were gentle on the inside of the wrist.  
“We can just kiss, if you’d like that better.”  
John kissed Tom’s skin again and inhaled the scent of him deeply.  
Always the hint of sea salt. Fresh sweat and the ocean smelled almost the same.  
“No, get it.”  
“Yes, sir.”

John rolled on his back and pulled his shirt over his head. Settled into the pillows and then Tom pressed in close next to him.  
“Bed’s much wider than mine at home.”  
“Then why are you so close?”  
“I’ll miss you otherwise.”  
John smiled and pulled Tom in for a kiss. A moment later he was being divested of his trousers and drawers in one fell swoop.  
Tom’s favourite way of undressing John: all at once.  
Well, if that was what he wanted.  
John tugged Tom’s drawers down under the curve of his arse and grabbed it in two hands.  
Tom hissed, prick twitching visibly. His eyes were glowing with joy.  
“Now, now, Hartnell.”  
“Oh, hell yeah.”

John laughed and kissed wetly under Tom’s navel.  
“What’s it going to be for us today, huh?”  
Tom shrugged, palming his hard prick through the linen of his drawers. There was a wet patch at the tip already.  
“Don’t know, got nothing special on my mind.”  
“Alright,” John nodded to himself and smoothed his palms over Tom’s strong chest.  
Nothing like a handsome sailor to make prayers spill from his hands like water from a spring.

“But please, John, don’t start quoting the Bible like last time. That was weird.”  
John blushed and nodded.  
“Sorry about that.”  
Tom laughed and kissed John soundly.  
Then they said nothing for a while.  
John touched Tom, gently here and there, then again firm enough to bruise. Tom let him.  
It worked best like that, letting John take the lead, letting him touch and direct Tom to touch him.  
Anything else was still overwhelming for him mostly.  
Hell, Tom wasn’t complaining.  
It was quite something to be the sole focus of John Irving’s singular attention.  
The man had a stare that made Tom hard in his pants more often than not.  
Pants that were tangled hopelessly around his ankles by now. He could barely move his legs and John was drawing patterns on Tom’s belly with his tongue.  
Tom panted, prick smearing wet against John’s beard.  
The rough hair was almost enough to tip him over and he cursed, hips rutting up again.  
John tutted, hands pressing Tom back into the sheets.

Not one hand had been laid on his aching prick since they’d started.  
“Damn it, John, please. I’m dying.”  
John lifted an eyebrow and put his ear over Tom’s hammering heart.  
“Hardly, Hartnell. Man up.” John’s grin was very small in his beard, but all the more evil for it.  
“I thought you a man of christian kindness, John.”  
“Don’t talk like that in bed, that’s just crass.”  
“Who quoted the scripture at my prick last time?”  
Tom earned a pinch to the nipple for that one and a swat.  
He laughed and pulled John up for a kiss.  
It was a badly disguised attempt to rub himself off against John’s lithe thigh.  
Backfired when John ground his hard prick into Tom’s hip and Tom promptly lost all higher brain function.  
It was so unbearably hot when John got hard for him.  
“God, John.”

John hummed, slowly rutting against Tom, eyes closed and mouth half open. His soft lips were pink and swollen, his neck still marked by Tom’s beard.  
Tom moaned, his fingers closed around a pillow, wrists pinned in place by John’s strong grip.  
“Ah, Tom.”  
So soft, barely a breath against Tom’s shoulder. John nuzzled the warm skin at the junction of shoulder and neck and Tom whined, prick twitching and drooling uselessly against his belly.  
John was rubbing himself wet on Tom’s hip, breath gusting hotly over Tom’s skin.  
Sometimes John’s mouth dragged against the corner of Tom’s jaw.  
Once or twice Tom managed to tilt his head at the right moment and their lips met, tongues tangling for as long as John could bear holding his hips still.  
Then he started rutting again, driving himself closer and closer to the edge, while Tom just lay there.

“John.”  
“Hmm, so good, Tom. Tommy. Darling.”  
John’s voice came in bursts now, prick smearing thicker and thicker against Tom’s skin.  
“Hell, John, your voice.”  
Tom closed his eyes, prick twitching at another moan that fell against Tom’s shoulder.  
John pulled himself closer to Tom’s ear and groaned into it, low and throaty and Tom shivered.  
Another groan and a slow roll of his hips. John’s fingers flexed around Tom’s wrists.  
“Tom.”  
Another shudder. Hopefully John would let another pet name slip.  
They made Tom lose his mind.  
John kissed him sloppily, prick pulsing against Tom’s hip.

“Tom, darling, I’m-” John broke himself off, hips stuttering in their slow rutting and then he spilled in thick, languid bursts over Tom’s hipbone.  
Tom grunted, eyes flying open.  
A gob of seed slid down the crease of his thigh, past his smarting prick and then it nestled in warmly against his balls and Tom’s eyes rolled back into his head.  
“John!”  
A nibble at his earlobe and then John moaned Tom’s name into his ear.  
Tom spilled untouched, seed splattering over his belly and chest.  
He groaned, limbs shaking and skin tight with exertion.

John was a heavy, warm, comfortable weight against his side and Tom never wanted to move again.  
John laughed after a moment, kissing and sucking at the side of Tom’s neck.  
He rubbed his beard against Tom’s skin and then Tom laughed too.  
“Matching looks for Christmas?”  
“I’m fond of patterns, you know that.”  
“I’m fond of you.”  
John stilled, hands finally letting go of Tom’s wrists.  
They both sat up, chests still vaguely heaving.  
They leaned close, noses brushing on every other breath. John could count Tom’s freckles like this.

“I..”  
“You don’t have to say it back, John.”  
John frowned, closed his eyes and shook his head.  
Looked down at his hand, tangled with Tom’s fingers as it was.  
Tom’s skin was fairer, his hands a bit squarer, but the fingers longer.  
John was fairly sure he would know his hands blind in the dark.   
That he knew them better than his own.  
He trusted no other hands to hold and touch him.  
“Tom.”

A pause that Tom filled with breathing and the gentle rasp of his calloused thumb over John’s hand.  
John looked up from their hands and into Tom’s eyes.  
“I love you.”  
Tom inhaled sharply, eyes suddenly bright and wet.  
He blinked rapidly and the tears spilled over his ruddy cheeks, into his short beard.  
John made a distressed noise in his throat and dove for a handkerchief.

Tom pulled him into an embrace instead.  
One hand cradled the back of John’s head, the other was pressed firmly along his spine.  
John was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Tom had their seed drying on his skin.  
“Tom,” John tried, but Tom didn’t let go. Held him impossibly tighter, hot tears spilling down his nose and dripping on John’s back.  
“I love you, too.”  
It came out croaky and brittle and John never wanted to hear anything else in Tom’s voice.  
“Oh, thank you Lord.”  
“God’s sake, please not right now.”  
John laughed, throat suddenly tight with tears. He struggled half out of Tom’s arms to look at his face.  
“God, I love you.”

Tom laughed and grabbed John’s cheeks, like John was holding his.  
It was the best Christmas gift he’d ever gotten.  
“I love you,” he said warmly and John smiled, kissing him.  
“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this far! please leave a comment and tell me what you liked best!


End file.
